Chapter 2: A Demanding Master’s Playful Torment

To discourage someone from staying, one naturally had to scrutinize them from every angle, making them realize the daunting obstacles and retreat.

Upon returning to his chambers, Su Zhuozhi settled into a seat by the octagonal table, while Xie Jue stood a respectful distance away, awaiting his commands.

Su Zhuozhi lightly tapped the tabletop, a solemn air about him. “Since you are to become my personal attendant,” he began, “you must clearly and firmly commit all my preferences and habits to memory. I am a highly demanding individual, utterly intolerant of even the slightest misstep. From this moment forth, you will serve me for a trial period. If you prove incapable, you will have no choice but to depart. Is that understood?”

Xie Jue’s expression remained unchanged as he nodded in assent.

Su Zhuozhi cast a fleeting glance at the teapot.

Qingping, understanding his young master’s unspoken desire, immediately stepped forward to pour tea, placing the cup on the table directly before Su Zhuozhi, within easy reach.

However, Su Zhuozhi made no move to drink. Instead, he turned his head to look at Xie Jue, his delicate brow furrowing as if a pampered young master’s temper had suddenly flared. His round eyes widened in dissatisfaction. “Is this what you mean by ‘understood’?”

He spoke in a cold tone. “Qingping, you may withdraw for now.”

Qingping acknowledged the command, stealing a glance at the new attendant before exiting. He hoped this man would be clever enough to leave soon, lest he displease the young master.

As the door clicked shut, only the two of them remained in the room.

Su Zhuozhi deliberately maintained a stern expression, adopting the air of someone troublesome and difficult to serve. He asked with displeasure, “Still not moving?”

Xie Jue remained silent for a moment before obediently walking over and picking up the teapot to pour the tea. He stood merely a step away from Su Zhuozhi, the proximity accentuating his tall, slender frame. He loomed like a majestic wall before Su Zhuozhi, his shadow nearly enveloping him.

If Xie Jue harbored any ill intentions, it would be effortless for him to act.

Within the pristine white teacup, the tea shimmered faintly, releasing a subtle, fragrant aroma.

Su Zhuozhi lifted the cup and took a delicate sip, then frowned in distaste. “It’s cold.”

Xie Jue asked in a level voice, “Does Young Master wish for me to reheat it?”

Su Zhuozhi’s face registered utter disbelief. “How could cold tea be reheated and drunk? Of course, I mean brew a fresh pot of tea.”

Xie Jue’s expression remained impassive, yet a hint of calm chill flickered in his eyes, as if he were sneering inwardly. “But I do not know how to brew tea. Will Young Master dismiss me for this?”

“You can learn,” Su Zhuozhi said airily. In his view, tea brewing seemed utterly commonplace. Though the steps were somewhat intricate, he had observed the maids brew tea with such fluid grace that it resembled a delightful painting.

Brewing tea was certainly not something one could master in a short time; there were many aspects to find fault with.

“Starting tomorrow, you will learn from Wanying.”

Xie Jue’s voice was low. “I was unaware that a bodyguard needed to know how to brew tea.”

Su Zhuozhi’s eyes curved into crescent moons, a hint of mischievous malice in his smile. “Others may not require it, but my requirements are different.”

Xie Jue offered no reply, appearing to be forced into accepting the current situation.

Su Zhuozhi fixated on the other man’s eyes, yet failed to discern the anticipated hint of retreat, leaving him somewhat disappointed. Was this man truly unaware of the complexities of tea brewing? Even the maid, Wanying, had diligently practiced for over half a year before she could barely satisfy him. This new attendant knew nothing; simply learning would be difficult, let alone achieving a level where Su Zhuozhi could find no fault.

He reiterated his demands, but Xie Jue’s response remained placid. “Yes.”

Feeling vexed, Su Zhuozhi scrunched his face. “Are you truly so confident in yourself?”

Xie Jue replied, “Young Master just said I must obey without question.”

Listening to that, it almost sounded as if he had been a tad too demanding.

However, being demanding was precisely the point.

Su Zhuozhi propped his chin on one hand, his lips curving into a smile. “It’s good that you know.”

Yet, merely making a fuss about tea brewing was far from sufficient.

Su Zhuozhi pondered for two seconds, then lightly tapped his own shoulder, instructing further, “Come here, my shoulder aches. Give me a massage.”

Having just witnessed Xie Jue’s solid musculature, and now seeing his broad palms and thick, long fingers, clearly indicative of immense strength, Su Zhuozhi added a cautionary note to prevent the other from being heavy-handed. “Be mindful of your strength. If I tell you lighter, go lighter; if heavier, go heavier. I am not some rough, thick-skinned brute like you. If you injure me, I will show no mercy.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

He appeared quite loyal and obedient.

Xie Jue lowered his gaze and walked behind Su Zhuozhi, his eyes sweeping over the young master’s delicate, handsome face before settling on his fair neck. The young master lived a life of luxury, every inch of his skin as pale as snow, like refined jade. Faint bluish veins were subtly visible beneath the thin skin, his fatal weakness utterly exposed to the air.

His powerful hands rested on Su Zhuozhi’s slender shoulders, almost fully encompassing them. As his four fingers curled, his thumb pressed lightly, the warmth from his palm permeating through the fabric.

Su Zhuozhi complained, “Too light. Haven’t you eaten enough?”

Xie Jue’s lips curved into a cold arc. Fulfilling the young master’s demand, he abruptly increased his force.

“Ow—!”

Su Zhuozhi cried out in pain, his entire body trembling, his voice quivering. He lurched forward, then swung back to slap Xie Jue’s hand away, glaring furiously. “You hurt me! Are you trying to murder your master?”

Xie Jue’s hands dropped to his sides, his head bowed, appearing somewhat at a loss. “Young Master, please forgive me. I rarely give shoulder massages and am not skilled. Please grant me another chance.”

In truth, Su Zhuozhi was not as pained as he let on, merely exaggerating. He clutched his somewhat sore shoulder, staring at the man for a moment, then haughtily declared, “This is your last chance. I have no need for someone who cannot do anything properly.”

This time, the strength was indeed more appropriate. Sometimes, a thumb would press perfectly into a weary muscle, sending a tingling current through him, followed by a sensation of relaxation and comfort.

Su Zhuozhi slowly relaxed his body, his eyes half-closed, enjoying the other’s service as if it were his due. Alas, he did not know that the servant behind him was not as silent and harmless as he appeared.

The man stared at Su Zhuozhi’s slender nape, visibly fragile, capable of being snapped with a single hand. His fingers, which had been pressing on the shoulders, shifted slightly, his rough thumb brushing against a vital point on the side of the neck.

The person in front instantly tensed, recoiling in a panic, but Xie Jue gripped his shoulders, halting all attempts to struggle.

In that moment, Su Zhuozhi completely lost his previous composure. Like a cat whose tail had been trodden on, he bristled, his ears flushing a delicate red. He blustered, “Did I permit you to touch my neck? I told you to massage my shoulders, not to touch anywhere else!”

Xie Jue paused, slightly taken aback. He had assumed Su Zhuozhi’s sharp senses had detected danger, but this reaction and his words sounded more like… he had been touched in some forbidden place.

Su Zhuozhi clutched his tingling neck with one hand, pointing at Xie Jue with the other, fiercely commanding, “Step back, get away from me.”

Xie Jue obediently retreated two steps.

But Su Zhuozhi still felt it wasn’t enough. “Keep retreating. Don’t stop until I say so.”

Xie Jue continued to retreat, the distance between them growing wider until his back was almost against the wall. Only then did Su Zhuozhi say, “Turn around, face the wall, and stand there without moving.”

Once he was certain the man was facing the wall in contemplation, Su Zhuozhi finally exhaled, relieved. He vigorously rubbed his neck, trying to erase the ticklish, numb sensation, and couldn’t help but glare at Xie Jue twice, wishing he could kick him.

After a while, the strange sensation faded, replaced by a creeping weariness. Su Zhuozhi was too lazy to cause any more trouble, so he simply rose and called Qingping. “I wish to bathe.”

Living in a wealthy household, bathing was, of course, not a simple matter of a mere tub.

Behind Yulan Hall lay a lavish, large bathhouse, exclusively for Su Zhuozhi, offering a truly aristocratic level of enjoyment.

In one corner of the bathhouse stood a lifelike jade carving of a qilin, from which water gurgled and flowed into the pool. Mist swirled over the water’s surface, creating a hazy, ethereal scene, while a faint, enticing incense permeated the air.

Su Zhuozhi disliked having attendants present during his bath. In the vast hot spring, he was alone, walking barefoot, step by step. He shed layer after layer of clothing until only his thin undergarments remained, tossing them casually aside. Then, he descended the steps along the pool’s edge, immersing himself in the water, closing his eyes in languid indulgence.

His entire body felt soft and pliable from the soak, but simultaneously, the pain in his shoulder, stimulated by the hot water, reasserted its presence.

Su Zhuozhi lifted a dripping hand and lightly pressed his rear shoulder, muttering to himself, “It didn’t bruise, did it?”

He walked to the bronze mirror by the pool. Droplets of water slid down his delicate skin, tracing paths across his chest, waist, thighs, and ankles, leaving a trail of damp, blurred footprints on the floor. With his back to the mirror, he strained to look behind him and indeed caught sight of a faint red mark on his shoulder through the reflection—a subtle finger imprint.

Su Zhuozhi had been pampered since childhood, living a life of luxury, with few opportunities to be injured. Perhaps it was for this reason that he was exceptionally sensitive to pain.

The sight of the mark instantly soured Su Zhuozhi’s mood.

Was he really just making trouble for that attendant, or was he making trouble for himself?

Where had his father unearthed this man? His martial arts were unparalleled, yet his personality was dull and taciturn, not clever at all, failing to grasp his master’s intentions, only moving when explicitly told.

Su Zhuozhi couldn’t help but recall a dog owned by a friend—large in size and strong in stamina, yet it consistently misunderstood its owner’s commands, even overly enthusiastically knocking its owner to the ground during feeding, its tongue lolling out, its bright eyes reflecting a clear idiocy.

Xie Jue was just like a clumsy dog.

Unable to properly carry out his master’s commands, and causing trouble, accidentally injuring his master.

The punishment of standing in the corner facing the wall was truly letting him off easy.

The more Su Zhuozhi thought about it, the more disdain he felt, pouting and grumbling, cursing the man thoroughly.

****

The man in the room, completely unaware that he had been equated to a big, foolish dog in the young master’s mind.

When Xie Jue was ordered to face the wall, his outward demeanor was compliant, but his expression was inwardly cold, and he was secretly on guard. Before coming to the Su residence, he had heard that Su Zhuozhi was an unlearned, arrogant, and dissolute young master. After meeting him, he was indeed deliberately provoked and toyed with, yet the methods were all painless, as if something was being secretly plotted.

Later, the young master finally became enraged, ordering him to turn his back. Was he planning to sever his tendons, or perhaps use a sharp dagger to slowly carve off his flesh, or press a branding iron against his skin to scorch it, all while enjoying his screams of agony and pleas for mercy?

In a brief moment, countless methods of torture flashed through Xie Jue’s mind.

However, he never would have expected that none of those possibilities would come to pass.

This supposedly “vicious” scion had merely punished him by making him face the wall in contemplation.